


Bloodsport

by conceptofzero



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-16
Updated: 2011-10-16
Packaged: 2017-10-24 16:20:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/265486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/conceptofzero/pseuds/conceptofzero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Slick doesn't pull his punches, especially not the ones he's aiming at her. His right fist catches her jaw and sends her reeling back. Snowman keeps her feet under her, and when he tries to follow it up with a left to her stomach, she just steps to the side and backhands him as hard as she can. Slick falls to the ground, and the back of her hand stings like a bitch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bloodsport

Slick doesn't pull his punches, especially not the ones he's aiming at her. His right fist catches her jaw and sends her reeling back. Snowman keeps her feet under her, and when he tries to follow it up with a left to her stomach, she just steps to the side and backhands him as hard as she can. Slick falls to the ground, and the back of her hand stings like a bitch.

If she listens closely, she can hear the sound of the others fighting in the background. The low rumble of Can's voice as he yells, and the unmistakable rattle of a rifle on full auto. Nobody's going to wonder where Slick and Snowman went off too. They already know.

Slick gets to his feet, and they circle one another, Snowman refusing to give or lose any ground, Slick doing the same. He can't kill her. That doesn't mean he won't see how far he can go. She can kill him. But she won't. Not yet. Snowman isn't about to give Slick the easy way out of this shitty world. He's going to suffer for as long as she suffers.

She makes a move, swinging a leg out to catch his leg. He skips over it, far too agile for his own good, and he hooks his foot under hers, catching Snowman while she's off-balance and yanking. This time she does lose her footing, this time she stumbles and falls, and before she can get up, he's on her, trying to get his hands around her neck. She catches them, and they roll across the floor, digging knees and trying to wrench each other's arms out of their sockets.

Snowman ends up on top, only because she gets her legs on either side of Slick and he weight is enough to pin him. She's still got his arms and she slams them down to the ground, twisting hard enough to get something resembling real pain across his face. "Fuck. You." He gasps out, trying to lunge up at her. She's not sure what he's trying to do, but she keeps her distance. His teeth are sharp, and she knows he knows how to use them. There's scars on her hands to remind her of that.

There's something poking at her. She almost dismisses it, until she remembers that it's Droog who prefers firearms. Snowman grinds down against him, and Slick's face goes blank. She just smiles, "Is that a gun in your pocket, or-"

Snowman doesn't get a chance to finish. There's an explosion somewhere behind them, hard enough to rattle the building, and it catches her off guard long enough for Slick to get a hand free, and to grab onto her coat and yank. Her knees slip out, and he rolls them so she's stuck on the bottom, and then he's got both hands tight on her neck, choking her with all he can manage. She doesn't panic. Snowman ignores the way her lungs go tight, and the horrible crushing feeling from his hands, and she gets her own arms up and onto Slick's face, digging in and scratching him to hell and back. She aims for his eyes, but gets his cheeks inside, digging long scratches down them as he twists and turns and tries to choke her to death before she can hit home.

Her vision goes black. She bucks up against him, against the hardness of him, and her mouth falls open, hungry for air. Shell flakes over her fingertips, and all the sound drains out of the world. He can't keep this up. If she dies, the world ends. He's stupid and bitter and vicious, but he's not suicidal.

Slick's fingers loosen, and she sucks in air, ignoring how much it hurts to breathe, and the way her throat screams with pain. Her jaw isn't the only thing that will be hurting tomorrow. Slick's face swims back into view above her, and only now can she see the damage she's done. If she'll be hurting for days, then he'll be hurting for weeks. His carapace will heal, eventually, but until then those deep white scratches will remain. Slick's harder than ever, and truth be told, she's just as aroused.

Snowman bucks her hips against his, and then they struggle with one another's clothes, Slick all but ripping the buttons off of Snowman's trenchcoat to get at what she's wearing underneath, Snowman messing around with Slick's belt until she gets it unbuckled, and his pants down his hips. He gets his jacket off, and she just hitches her skirt up, spreading her thighs. Slick shoves in hard enough to make her nearly bite her own tongue, not bothering to check if she's wet enough. The marks on her neck and his face are foreplay enough. His one hand is on her right breast, pinching the nipple hard enough to make her squirm, and she digs her knees into his sides, egging him on.

She can hear his knees grinding against the cement floor as he fucks her hard and fast, and Snowman's glad she's got her coat still on, because the floor's rough enough against the back of her head, nevermind how it would feel against the rest of her. Slick yanks on her neckline until her breasts pop over the top, and he presses his mouth on top the left one, biting at the bare flesh. She digs her fingers into his back and scratches, leaving tracks to match the ones on his face. Snowman digs deep enough that he hisses in pain, and she feels something wet on her fingertips. Slick keeps thrusting unsteadily into her, fast and deep, and it's driving her nuts because it feels good, but not good enough.

His knee slips out, and as he tries to get his balance, she takes advantage of it and shoves him backwards. Slick topples over, and she follows, getting her thighs on either side of his hips and sinking down. From here, she can control the rhythm and she does, grinding against him so the length of his cock rubs right against her clit. Her breasts sway and heave with every undulation of her body, and Slick grabs onto her hips and tries to set the pace he prefers. She grabs hold of his hands and holds them over his head. His squirming as he tries to get free is so good, hitting her in all the right places. Snowman can feel her orgasm building inside of her, and she grinds down harder, twisting his wrists to make him struggle more. He stretches up his head, and bites her chest, and she comes embarrassingly hard, gasping as the pleasure floods through her.

She loses her grip, and barely manages to catch herself as her body sags onto Slick. Slick just rolls them over for the last time, repositioning himself and fucking Snowman the way he likes. It's hard and rough, as merciless as when he choked her, and she can still feel his fingers on her throat. It's enough to turn her on again. Slick keeps his hands gripping her hips, forcing her to stay still as he thrusts into her. She gets a hand on his back, fingers finding the grooves she's carved into his back, and sliding down until she hits flesh. Snowman digs her fingers in, and Slick's hips stutter and his hands tighten hard enough that she hears her carapace start to crack.

Slick finally comes, shoving into as deep as he can, face twisted up in silent agony. She feels a flood of warmth inside of her, warm as the blood running down her fingers and the smears of it across her chest. He pulls out of her, and rubs one hand across his face, tracing the grooves she left. Snowman's still feeling hot and bothered, just a few minutes of masturbation away from another orgasm, but she's not about to lower her guard when Slick's still in the room.

The chatter of gunfire continues in the other rooms. If one side's winning, Snowman can't tell from in here. Instead, she sits up and makes herself presentable again, skirt getting shoved down, and breasts tucked back underneath her neckline. Slick's shirt is shredded all down the back, but with his jacket on and his pants up, you can barely tell what's gone on. The deep marks on his face tell a story, but not an accurate one. Same with the ring of marks around her throat.

She's getting to her feet when someone slams into the other side of the locked door. Slick goes for his cards, and Snowman dodges behind an overturned table, digging her cigarette holder out of the pocket in her jacket. She hears the door crack, and turns the cigarette holder between her fingers, feeling the comfortable heft of the lance take it's place. Snowman keeps her back to the table, crouched down low and listens. Bullets spray across the room and she goes down lower, listening while Slick curses up a storm. Then there's the roar of Cans, and weird chiming sound as Cans punches someone through time.

Snowman carefully peeks over the top of the table, and gets to her feet once she sees that it's just Cans and Crowbar. Crowbar's scorpion submachine gun is still smoking, and he brings it around to point at Snowman before he realizes that it's just her. "You okay?"

"A little bruised." She says, and her voice is hoarse.

"And bleeding." Crowbar gestures to her chest, and when she looks down, she can see blood dotting her dress. She pulls her coat together and buttons it up, while Crowbar frowns, "I'll radio Stitch-"

"I'm fine. He'll get around to my effigy when he can." And hopefully he wouldn't comment on the bite marks. She balances the lance on her shoulder and strides over to the pair. "Let's get out of here."


End file.
